Imbalanced Justice
by NeonGensis
Summary: On a cold Christmas eve, Batman is keeping his vigil over the Gotham Badlands' only church. But, to his horror he discovers that not everyone submits to the sanctity of Christmas Eve.


Batman huddled tighter into himself like a ball, trying to conserve his own heat. Thick powdery snowflakes swirled and danced around him, a white screen against the blackness of night. Crouching atop the highest buttress of Saint Jude's Cathedral-- a weathered, near-forgotten sanctuary of faith and hope in Gotham City's seediest sector, the Badlands-- Batman had been watching, a raptor in search of game. You never could tell what would go down on the street...even if it was Christmas Eve.  
  
His eyes narrowed slightly as he heard something. Or thought he did. Years of experience taught him how to lie perfectly still, like the gargoyles perched alongside him, and ignore every sensation until he found that which he needed. Experience also taught him what to look for as well.  
  
There! Batman raised himself to a half crouch, his black cape whipping out behind him like a mournful banner, or like the storm clouds above sweeping the light away from the sky. He heard it, the splintering of wood-- someone kicking in a door, most likely-- and a muffled cry. His ears pricked, and as he surveyed the lay of the city far below, searching for his perpetrators, he shook with fury and disgust. Who could be so vile, to spit upon such a hallowed and joyous night?  
  
Even as he asked himself the question, he knew no answers would come to him tonight. Nor were they likely to ever come-- his heart sank at this, not for the first time. All crimes were a matter of theft: whether one stole a VCR, or one's innocence, or another's life did not matter. Each had to be judged, in their own.   
  
Impossibly, against the howl of icy winds in his ears, he heard more sounds-- a crash echoing, shouts, and a man's scream of terror. They came from within the cathedral!  
  
Clenching his teeth, he unraveled a nylon cord and secured it around a downspout in the shape of a seraph, and tested it with two firm tugs. Then, he took two bounding steps and lept off into oblivion. The rope burned through his gloved fingers as it unreeled from his utility belt, but the dark knight cared little. His breath caught as the ground rushed up to meet him and the wind caused his eyes to water; the exhilaration of dancing a razor's edge between reason and insanity, between life and death! Even when, by all rights, he should have died long ago, alongside his parents....  
  
The memory shattered as, simultaneously, the rope snapped taut and a sharp cry was cut abruptly short by the firing of a pistol. Batman resisted the urge to scream his rage. Wrapping the cord over his wrist, he pushed off a cathedral column and twisted. He tucked his knees together as he prepared to crash through the central stain glass window over the massive, heavily-worked doors.  
  
No!, he thought, I hope I'm not too late! Shielding his face with his cape, he inhaled deeply and braced himself.... The circular stained glass, depicting Jesus Christ scouring the evils of the world away in a radiant aura, shattered into a billion colorful shards as Batman ploughed through. Landing perfectly in a haunched stance, he waited as the sharp glass twinkled all around him like a dispersed rainbow, mingled with billowing white gusts of snow swirling down.  
  
Like a cat, Batman lept at the nearest shadows. Bullets sprayed the area he had just stood in, flinging shards of pavement stone to the air. Batman stalked his way along the shadows towards where the gunshots came from, slinking from pew to pew.  
  
Where did he go? That wasn't the Bat was it? Naw, too fast. Sweep the sides just in case. Get the loot out, quick!  
  
Three voices, Batman judged, then froze. Directly across him, his body sprawled listlessly across a tabernacle, lay the body of Reverend Brian O'Malley. Bruce Wayne recognized him; he was a pillar of what could still be called a community here, in the Badlands. Now, his body was riddled with bullets, his wide unseeing eyes gazed up, towards the moonlight that bathed him. Blood leaked from the cornersof his eyes, like tears.  
  
Who could have done this? Batman continued to stare aghast. He was an old man, a priest no less! What harm could he--  
  
There! shouted one. Batman! Gunfire rang and echoed under the high vaulted ceiling.  
  
Batman, seething with fury, uncoiled like a spring out of the darkness. He seized the first one by his coat lapels and pummeled him. Lifting him high in the air, he threw the thug into another one, trying to sneak up from behind. Creating a makeshift lasso, he bound the two together before they could struggle much, then bashed their heads together. They sagged to the ground, unconscious.  
  
He spotted the third trying to flee, a large stuffed bag over his shoulder. Removing a bat-shaped shuriken from his belt, he flung it at the third. His aim was true. The shuriken stuck in him, and he stumbled and fell, screaming as he seized his leg.  
  
Batman allowed himself to feel some satisfaction in his work, though his face was a grim mask. They were just low-life scum after all, but Reverend O'Malley was still dead. He recovered whatever was taken, but he could never replace the loss the community now had to face. Walking over to the great, quiet man, Batman laid two fingers over his eyes, and closed them.  
  
It had taken an hour for the first cops to arrive. Forensics took some photos, dusted for prints. The old man was brought away in a body bag, and Batman and Commissioner Gordon watched. They were chilled to the bone, and not just from the snow.  
  
Pretty horrific, Gordon said. On Christmas, too. The three had eight-hundred cash on them, besides the packages. Looks like they were trying to steal the holiday coffers, and the gifts for the needy they collected. 18 months in the penn, and they'll walk. The one who killed the reverend might get 20 years; life, if we're lucky.  
  
Bruce Wayne could make some donations, when word gets out, Batman thought. Then he said aloud: Somehow, it doesn't seem enough.  
  
No, friend, it never does, replied Gordon.  
  
As one, the two looked up at the stars, as what seemed to be the last of the snow cascaded down around them, silently.   
  
  



End file.
